It’s been a hot minute since I last dusted off this blog, but I’m back to share how God keeps showing up in my life through dogs, other animals, and the occasional gust of wind on my face. God has this knack for using creation to speak to us when humans fall short, or when we just need a break from them. Take my Miniature Donkey, Winston, for example. On days when the world feels like a dumpster fire, I grab Winston and head to the field. His strong presence and stoicism calms my soul and, sometimes, even makes me laugh. Those moments full of peace, laughter, and a breeze that reminds me I’m alive are what I call salvific. If “salvation” means resurrection, these are my mini-resurrections, my pit stops for healing. Through work, prayer, play, rest—I’m constantly re-learning to pause and soak in these moments with God’s creation. And let me tell you, Twig’s thumping nub is the ultimate wingman for that.
I’m beyond grateful for our dogs: Willow, Aspen, Twig, and the parade of dogs (and other critters) in my life. They help me hit that sweet spot of stillness where I can actually hear God’s voice because, let’s be honest, my brain’s default setting is “overdrive.” Busyness is my kryptonite, the ultimate buzzkill to contemplation. I like it but don’t love the word “mysticism” (it sounds like I’m about to pull a rabbit out of a hat), so I’ll call myself a modern-day contemplative. I’ve heard God’s quiet voice, felt the “Hand of God” in my life and others, and been gifted with a spiritual knack for “knowing.” I’m just trying to live mindfully, chasing God’s presence like Beau chased a rabbit.
Back in 2020, after a seven-year break from vocational ministry as a chaplain, I realized something big. I’d spent those years living as a “civilian,” surrounded by people who didn’t know my past and thought my do-gooder vibes were some kind of scam. Compassion fatigue and PTSD had forced me to step back, and I needed that break to heal. But it wasn’t until I joined the Doctorate of Ministry program at Lipscomb that I could put words to what I’d learned. When the program director asked, “Why do you want to be here?” I confidently replied, “Because after seven years in the ‘real world,’ I’ve learned there’s no place for me unless I’m in ministry.” Without the chaplain’s cross on my uniform or the title “chaplain” in a hospital, people didn’t get why I cared so much. They assumed I had an ulterior motive, like I was secretly selling essential oils or something.
So, I pursued re-ordination through the Federation of Christian Ministries, swapping my military rank of Major and hospital badge for a white minister’s collar. It was like God handed me a spiritual glow-up, complete with healing and grace. Now, I’m growing in wisdom and, here’s the fun part, creativity. Why creativity? Because God’s creation is the ultimate therapy. Leaning into the joy of dogs, cats, horses, and even our sassy donkeys has been a game-changer. They offer spiritual gifts like unconditional love and the ability to live in the moment (a serious flex for someone with PTSD).
When I started our business and handed it over to Jenny, “A Dog's Utopia,” I had no idea it would become a spiritual portal (fancy term for “God showing up in unexpected ways”). Caring for customers’ dogs helped me rediscover my ability to care for God’s people. Every wagging tail and slobbery kiss reminded me of the depth of love I’m called to share. Those furry goofballs became my bridge back to ministry, one belly rub at a time.
So, here’s to more walks in the field and chances to see God in the most unexpected places.
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